Llanada Villa
by LarielRomeniel
Summary: Reunion fic and a haunted house story.
1. Chapter 1

This was actually the first thing that came to mind for the Summer Lovin' ficathon on LJ's "ohsheknows" community. But the very wise wmr, Dark Aegis and Aibhinn pointed out that the idea didn't quite work for that particular ficathon, so I put this aside and "Slip Up" was written instead. That's also archived here.

Still, I couldn't leave the story. I love the setting. (Oh, you do know that I don't own any of this, right?)

* * *

"Martha! Are you ready yet? We're here!" 

Martha walked into the console room dressed in a beach cover-up, a canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder. "Surf City, here we come! I'm still cold from that last planet."

"I will remind you that you're the one who called me, moaning that you needed a break from your studies, Miss Jones," the Doctor said in a mock-stern voice. "When you're getting a free ride, you shouldn't complain about the itinerary. Now, this should warm you up quite nicely! Malibu, California, USA, 1965." He grabbed his coat and headed toward the door.

"Doctor, we're going to the beach. Why are you bringing your coat?"

He looked down at it. "I've got things we need in there. Like...sun cream! Can't go out without that."

Martha patted her bag. "Got it."

"A beach blanket."

"Got that too."

He thought for a moment. "A beach umbrella! You don't have that in your bag!"

She stared at him disbelievingly. "And you can't have it in your coat, either!"

He grinned. "Of course I can. The pockets are bigger on the inside! Now stop nitpicking and come on! If you're lucky, we might spot Frankie and Annette playing beach blanket bingo."

"Who doing what?" she asked as she stepped outside. The Doctor rolled his eyes and went out after her.

She'd stopped short just outside the door, and he nearly ran her down. "You missed the beach," Martha said dryly. She gestured at the scene in front of them. "Those don't look like palm trees, unless they grow differently in California."

They'd materialized in the midst of what looked like a lumber yard. Piles of wood in different lengths and thicknesses were stacked up around them. They could hear the sounds of hammering and sawing in the distance.

"Well, hmmm..." He started to weave through the piles, Martha following. "I'm sure the beach isn't that far off…."

"Are you sure we're even on Earth?" she interrupted.

He shot her a wounded look, then took in a deep breath. "Hmm…Mostly nitrogen atmosphere with some oxygen, a bit of argon, carbon dioxide, helium, neon, krypton, methane, hydrogen and just…hmmm…" He cocked his head and held up a finger as he kept on cataloguing, "just a tiny bit of nitrous oxide, xenon, ozone, nitrogen dioxide, iodine, carbon _mon_oxide…and…_yes!_ A trace of ammonia to top it off! Yes, this is Earth." He grinned down at Martha, who just shook her head with a wry smile.

"There you go trying to be impressive again!"

"I _am_ impressive!"

"So impressive that you failed your TARDIS driving test," she teased. "And you're a rubbish navigator."

A man's voice barked out, "Hey! You're not supposed to be here!"

They looked up to see the speaker, a man in a worker's cap, looking at them over a wood stack. As he came around the stack, they saw he was wearing carpenter's clothes and carrying a sledgehammer like a weapon.

"Sorry," said the Doctor, trying to keep things friendly. "We were just—"

"You were just trespassing!" the man interrupted. "And with her half-naked, I think I can guess what for!" he added, glancing at Martha and then looking away.

_Oh, not this again._ "It's not what you think," the Doctor said. "She's…she's from Fredonia."

The man interrupted again. "Don't matter what I think, or where she's from. Just matters what Miz Winchester thinks. This is her property. You have to come up to the house."

"I never argue with a man carrying a sledgehammer," the Doctor said. He motioned to Martha, and they followed the man out of the lumber yard.

The sounds of construction became much clearer as they walked. They rounded a small grove of tall pine trees, and Martha gasped. "You call that a house?"

_House_ was putting it mildly. A huge structure loomed before them; a confused, Escherian jumble of gables, spires, turrets and towers, topped off by a tall belfry that had to be seven storeys high. The walls were paneled with sunny yellow siding and fishscale shingles, and the rooftops and gables were all crimson. As if this edifice wasn't massive enough already, a crew of workmen was busy constructing yet another gabled section.

No, _house_ definitely wasn't the right word. A madman might call it a mansion…._wait. Or a mad woman…_ He called out to their guide, who was obviously one of the carpenters. "Did you say Mrs. Winchester? Mrs. _Sarah_ Winchester?"

The man looked back over his shoulder at them. "Of course. Who else is building night and day without stopping? She says the hammers can't ever go silent, no matter what happens."

A scream made them look toward the partially finished gable. Several of the carpenters were gathered in a knot on the ground. Heedless of the man with the sledgehammer, the Doctor and Martha took off for the group. As they approached it, the Doctor could see a pair of denim-clad legs lying in the dirt. "Let us through!" he shouted, trying to push his way through. "We can help!"

Two of the men moved aside to make way. "Too late," one of them said. The fallen workman had landed in a twisted heap, a look of pained fear in his staring eyes.

The Doctor felt for a pulse but wasn't surprised when he didn't find one. He let his hand drop. "I'm sorry," he said to the dead man, and stood up again next to Martha, who'd cocked her head, listening.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

One hammer was still pounding. They looked up to see one carpenter still nailing shingles to the wall. "A man just died here!" Martha exclaimed. "You can't just keep going like nothing happened!"

"The hammers can never go silent," said the man with the sledgehammer. "Miz Winchester's orders."

"Never mind that this whole place is cursed," grumbled another carpenter.

"Cursed?" asked the Doctor with interest. He knew the story of Sarah Winchester's bizarre home, but hadn't heard of a curse. Particularly not a fatal one.

"Gotta be a curse," said the grumbler. "How else do you explain the accidents?"

Sledgehammer barked out, "Accidents happen on construction sites! That don't mean there's a curse!"

Another man piped up, "What about the voices on the sixth floor?"

"There ain't no voices on the sixth floor," Sledgehammer said derisively. "And there ain't no curse, except the one you bring on yourselves by shirking! Simmons, Thomas, you two take poor old Bartholomew over to the foreman's house. Lay him out and call the undertaker. The rest of you, get back to work!" He turned back to the Doctor. "And don't you two think you're getting out of anything because of this."

"Oh, we wouldn't dream of trying to get out of anything," the Doctor answered cheerily. "Not when there's a curse to investigate. Right, Martha?"

"How could we possibly walk away from a curse and mysterious voices?" Martha replied with a smile.

The Doctor beamed. "There now, you see? Lead on, MacDuff!"

Sledgehammer looked at him oddly. "The name's McSweeney," he growled before starting back the way they'd run. He led them up to a doorway and rang the bell. The door was opened by a woman in a maid's dress. "I found these two in the lumber yard," McSweeney said, jerking a thumb toward Martha and the Doctor. "Since she's half naked, they were up to something indecent, I reckon."

"That's a misunderstanding!" the Doctor corrected. He gave the maid a bright smile. "Things aren't always what they seem. I'm the Doctor, this is Martha. We'd like to see Mrs. Winchester about a curse."

The maid didn't seem at all surprised, but from what he knew about Sarah Winchester, strange visitors were probably the norm for this house.

"Mr. McSweeney, I'll see to them. This way, Doctor." The maid led them inside, down a mahogany-paneled hallway to a lavish parlor. "Please wait here, sir. Mrs. Winchester will be right with you."

"Give me your coat, Doctor," Martha said, holding her hand out as the maid left.

He looked at her curiously. "My coat? Whatever for?"

She glared at him. "We're obviously much too early for Surf City, and I don't like people saying I'm walking around naked. So hand it over!"

He shrugged off the coat, murmuring, "He only said half-naked. Be careful with it."

"I'll try not to fall into the pockets," Martha deadpanned, taking the coat and putting it on. Now covered, she perched on a loveseat covered in golden brocade while the Doctor walked over to a curio cabinet and inspected it. "So, where and when are we? It sounds like you know this place."

The Doctor was studying the glass panel inserts on the curio. "Thirteen," he murmured. He looked over at Martha, who was watching him patiently. "Hm? Oh, sorry. Yes. Well, we're on Earth, just as I said, and we _are_ in California. We're just a little farther north than I anticipated. San José rather than Malibu. And you're right. We're a bit early for Surf City." He moved over to the fireplace and took out his glasses, bending slightly to peer closely at the objects on the mantle. "Well, more than a bit. About five or six decades too early, although I'm not sure of the exact date. Martha, you're about to meet one of the most eccentric women who ever lived."

"The mysterious Mrs. Winchester?"

"Sarah Lockwood Winchester," the Doctor said, removing his glasses and turning toward her. "Half owner of the Winchester Repeating Arms company, heiress to a fortune and one of the wealthiest women in America during her time. She was a New Haven socialite until she lost her daughter to a childhood illness. That nearly drove her mad. Then she lost her husband to tuberculosis, and that did send her over the edge. She started consulting spiritualists. One of them supposedly got her in touch with her dead husband, and he supposedly told her she was being haunted by the spirits of everyone ever killed by a Winchester rifle. Since it was the gun that won the West, that was a lot of people."

Martha looked shocked. "There really were shootouts just like in the cowboy movies?"

"Oh, yes. There's a reason they called it the Wild West, you know. I saw the gunfight at the O.K. Corral. The movies weren't nearly as violent as the reality." A Tiffany lamp in the corner caught his eye. Like the paper on the walls, it was patterned with blue daisies. Thirteen of them on the lamp, he noted. "So….Sarah Winchester thought she was being pursued by angry spirits. A medium told her she needed to build a house for herself and all the spirits. Sarah went West, bought a house and spent her fortune adding to it. She calls the place _Llanada Villa._ Believe it or not, that's Spanish for _plain house_."

Martha snorted. "She'd probably call Buckingham Palace a shack! She could house an army of spirits in here. Why's she still building?"

"The medium told her if she stopped, she'd die. So the building went on and on and on, day and night, starting in 1884."

A gravelly female voice said, "The hammers haven't stopped for twenty-one years, but now the spirits are more troublesome than ever." Sarah Winchester stood in the doorway, a short, slightly stout woman whose white hair contrasted sharply with the black crepe she wore. "I'm told you want to see me about a curse, Doctor….?"

"Yes, I do," the Doctor said, ignoring the unspoken request for a name and pulling out his wallet. "Curses and spirits are our speciality, you might say. We're with the Society of Psychical Research." He showed her the psychic paper, knowing that she was seeing a letter of introduction from the Director of the Society. Surreptitiously, he motioned to Martha to get up. "Martha, may I present Mrs. Sarah Winchester? Mrs. Winchester, this is Miss Martha Jones."

"Ma'am." Martha nodded to her.

Sarah looked her up and down and sniffed disdainfully before turning back to the Doctor. "I know my workmen have been whispering…"

"They're not just whispering anymore," Martha interrupted, her voice sharp in reaction to being dismissed. "A man just fell off your roof and died, and they're talking about other accidents and a curse and strange voices on the sixth floor."

Sarah had paled at the mention of the dead man. "Another spirit to appease," she murmured. After a moment, she composed herself. "Obviously we need to double our efforts here. Construction has been slowing down, and the spirits are angry."

The Doctor leaned forward. "Why the slowdown?"

"Because of the voices on the sixth floor," Sarah answered.

Martha interjected, "Mr. McSweeney says there are no voices."

Sarah sniffed again. "I told Mr. McSweeney to tell his crew that. I cannot have them walking off the job. The hammers cannot stop. My life depends upon it." She paused for a moment. "There _are_ voices. I heard one myself, two nights ago."

"Did it say anything?" he asked.

Sarah shrugged. "Nothing that made any sense."

The Doctor stood. "Can you take us there?"

Sarah led them down another richly decorated hallway. The Doctor noted that she moved very slowly, stiffly, as if she was in great pain. _Arthritis_, he thought.

They eventually reached a lift, a manservant standing ready outside it. "This will take us to the fourth floor," Sarah said as the servant opened the gate for them. "We'll need to take stairs the rest of the way."

"We can see ourselves up," the Doctor began, but Sarah cut him off.

"I am not completely crippled yet, Doctor. I can still move from place to place in my own home." She swept into the lift. He glanced at Martha and gave a small shrug before they followed her in.

The servant closed the gate and pushed a button. They felt a small jolt as the car began to move. Martha cocked her head, listening. "Is that water?"

"Hydraulic fluid!" the Doctor said. "Hydraulics were an alternative to electric lifts. If this goes four floors up, then the cylinder shaft must go…five floors down."

Sarah nodded. "Yes. It goes below the house. I plan to have electric elevators installed, but it takes time to get materials delivered here in the West."

"But what you have done so far is astounding," the Doctor said. The lift was moving upwards slowly. "Mrs. Winchester, tell me, how long have you been hearing these voices?"

Sarah thought for a moment. "One of my maids first heard something there four nights ago. She came downstairs screaming, and hasn't set foot there since."

"One of the workers mentioned accidents," Martha said. "Did anyone hear voices before the accidents?"

"Accidents happen on construction sites," Sarah replied, addressing the Doctor rather than Martha. "They happened before the voices started, and they'll happen in the future. Only the ignorant and superstitious believe there is a connection."

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," Martha murmured under her breath.

The Doctor shot her a quelling look as the lift arrived on the fourth floor. Another servant was waiting to open the gate. "Thank you, Smithson," Sarah said as she walked out. "Please call the kitchen staff and tell them to set another place for dinner."

"Two places," the Doctor corrected. When Sarah looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he said, "I should have told you that Miss Jones is soon to be Doctor Jones, and is my very trusted assistant. I don't make a move in an investigation without her."

Sarah gave him a curt nod of acquiescence, and turned to Martha. "My apologies, Miss Jones. I should know by now that appearances can deceive."

"My mum always says not to judge books by their covers," Martha answered with a slight smile. She glanced over at Smithson, who had walked over to a phone mounted on the wall. "You don't have electricity but you have a telephone?"

"That is a call box. I have them throughout the house to contact my staff whenever I need them. This way." Sarah led them down another hallway that was not quite as posh as the previous ones. No fancy wallpaper or expensive woodwork here yet. They reached a curious staircase made of small, low steps, with upside-down stairposts.

"Did the builders make a mistake here?" Martha asked as they began to climb. "These stairs are strange. They're so short."

"But perfect for a woman who has trouble walking," the Doctor observed, watching Sarah carefully mount each step.

She nodded. "I told you I can still move from place to place, Doctor. And if I do have trouble, I can use the call boxes to summon one of my staff."

Martha glanced at her curiously. "How do they know where you're calling from?"

"Each box is numbered, and the number of the sending box appears on the receiving box when I make a call."

"Sort of the way a telephone number appears on the screen of your mobile when you take a call," the Doctor told Martha.

Sarah stopped and looked at him strangely. "Mobile…that was one of the things that the strange voice said. Something about interference with their mobile, as if it was a thing. I don't understand. Mobile is a verb, even for the British. There's no such thing as 'a mobile,' Doctor."

The Doctor furrowed his brow. "Not here and now, no. Now I'm really curious about these voices. Come on, let's go."

They resumed their climb, up and up. Since each step was so short, this staircase took more flights than usual to go up. "Do you know what the voices are?" Martha asked.

"I have a theory," he told her. "There are all sorts of ways for different realities to collide with each other. I just need to figure out how it's happening so we can close it up, and then no more strange voices."

Sarah shook her head. "Doctor, your words are as strange as the ones used by the voice. Are you saying you can exorcise whatever it is from this floor?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Wellll…I wouldn't use the word 'exorcise.' But I think I can solve your puzzle, yes."

They climbed the last flight of steps. "This is the floor," Sarah said, breathing a little heavily from the exertion. She made her way to a blue velvet divan placed against the wall a few feet away, and sank into it with a sigh.

Martha went to her, any remaining pique over the old woman's attitude now gone, replaced by compassion and professional concern. "Are you all right?"

Sarah waved her hand a little, shaking her head. "I just need a moment's rest."

Martha caught he hand and felt for her pulse. "More than a moment. Your pulse is racing."

The Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver from his coat pocket. "While you recover, I'm going to investigate. Where have the voices been heard?"

"Down the hall, and around that corner," Sarah answered, motioning with her free hand in that direction. "The hallway doubles back. I was trying to confuse the spirits with the design. No matter. The maid heard something when she went to change the linens in the first bedroom around the corner. And I was in the room at the end of that hallway when I heard the voice."

He flicked a switch and the screwdriver started whirring. He looked over at his companion. "Martha?"

She had released Sarah's wrist, but still looked concerned. "Go ahead, Doctor. I want to be sure she's all right. I'll catch up."

The Doctor nodded and started down the hallway, holding the screwdriver before him. _Everything looks normal here. Well, as normal as this place could ever be. Nothing but the usual background radiation of the Earth._

He reached the first door and went into the bedroom. The linens were still scattered on the floor; the maid apparently never finished making the bed. He scanned the room. _Now this is interesting. Traces of artron energy? How would that get here?_

The traces seemed to be strongest at the closet door. He walked over to open it—

And found that the door was a dead end, opening to a wall. _One of Sarah's architectural mistakes, and it's fairly crackling with artron residue._ He reached out to touch the wall, half expecting his hand to pass through it, but the wood paneling remained solid. _All right, let's see what's in the other room._

He could hear the hammers outside as he walked into the other bedroom. He looked out the window and could see McSweeney directing his carpenters below. His gaze traveled upwards, towards the many rooftops, all for one house. A Tiffany window glinted in the sunlight. A weather vane caught his eye as it turned with the wind.

The view was bewildering. Shaking his head, the Doctor turned back to the room and began scanning. _The residue is stronger here. Perhaps because it was only two nights ago? The energy dissipates over time? But why is it here at all?_

"Doctor!"

Martha's shout sent him running back down the hallway and around the corner. Sarah was still sitting on the divan. She pointed to a doorway. "There, Doctor. She heard something and went to investigate."

He barreled through the door and skidded to a stop next to Martha, staring with her at the ornate mirror on the wall. It was sparkling with visible energy that arced and swirled from the mirror's carved wooden frame to the floor and ceiling. But what transfixed him was the image within the mirror.

_"Rose?"_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Sincere apologies for taking so long with this. I had a mega-dose of real life combined with a severe case of writer's block. That was the bad news. The good news (well, you may think it good) is that the story has grown by at least a chapter.Thanks to Aibhinn"for being a terrific beta, and also Sensiblecat for answering a Britglish question.

* * *

_That's Rose?_

Martha had always pictured someone different. A walking encyclopedia who could come up with any answers the Doctor needed. An Amazon who could face down a Dalek killing machine without fear. A Valkyrie who helped defeat the Cybermen at Canary Wharf. (The Valkyrie image became the most solid when Jack mentioned she was blonde.)

Martha didn't expect _this_.

She was young, only about Martha's age. If that. No Amazon at all; she was slender and only a little taller than Martha herself.

And she wasn't blonde. Well, not anymore.

Rose could have been a graduate student at any university. There was nothing about her that seemed special or important.

But…

The woman in the mirror wore a key on a silver chain around her neck, just like the one Martha wore herself. And her eyes…

Her eyes were those of a woman who'd seen far more than her age would imply. Martha thought she'd caught that look on her own reflection from time to time.

Right now, Rose was gaping at them through the mirror. No, not at them. At _him._ And the Doctor was gaping right back. "This isn't possible," he whispered.

Rose made a sound that was half-chuckle, half-sob. "Aren't you the one who told me to never say never ever? It's unbelievable—"

"Improbable," the Doctor interjected.

"—but it doesn't seem to be impossible, does it?"

The Doctor stepped closer to the mirror. "No, it doesn't. Sometimes the universe is kind," he said softly, reaching out. The glass stopped his hand.

"Not that kind," Rose replied, reaching out in imitation of his action. Their hands both pressed against the glass from opposite sides. "We never get to be that lucky, do we?"

"I don't believe in luck," the Doctor said.

They stood staring at each other through the impenetrable glass. Feeling like an intruder, Martha started to step backwards slowly. Rose noticed the movement and looked at her. "You're traveling with him now?" she asked, breaking the moment.

Martha stopped. "Yeah. Well, just for a little bit. On holiday from medical school. I'm Martha."

The other woman smiled a little shakily. "I'm glad he's not alone. I'm Rose."

_The woman who stopped the Time War. His perfect Rose._ "I know. He talks about you."

Rose lifted an eyebrow, apparently surprised. "You're kidding me! He _never_ talks about people he's traveled with after they're gone."

"I'm standing right here!" the Doctor objected. "And I thought you'd want me to mention you. After all, it upset you that I never talked about Sarah Jane—"

"Who?" Martha cut in.

Rose laughed, a full-fledged sound now rather than one choked by tears. "Oh, you're just the latest in a long line, Martha. But if you can handle that, it's not a bad life."

"As long as you don't mind running from monsters, getting kidnapped on a regular basis, and having to avoid slime and shite all the time!" Martha said with a smile that Rose returned.

"Blogging again, Miss Jones?" the Doctor interrupted brusquely. He shifted his gaze back to the mirror. "Rose, the walls are supposed to be closed. You know just how dangerous every minute can be for both our universes."

"You haven't changed. You still look a gift horse in the mouth," Rose said, shaking her head.

The Doctor frowned. "If the Trojans had looked their gift horse in the mouth, Troy would still be standing," he said. They stared at each other for a silent moment, then he went on, "I know you don't like it, Rose, but you know I'm right."

Rose dropped her hand and nodded. "Yeah, I do."

The Doctor stood for another moment with his hand pressed to the mirror. He lowered it, and Martha saw his fingers clench into a fist. _So close, but yet so far. This is killing him. Killing them both,_ she thought, noting the trembling of Rose's chin. Unable to watch their pain, she spoke. "It can't be a coincidence, us coming here just in time to see you, Rose. We weren't supposed to even be here in the first place, remember, Doctor? Decades too early and way too far north of where we'd planned to go."

He gave her a thoughtful look. "I think you're on to something, Martha. Just before you called me, I found traces of artron energy over in some of the other rooms."

"Artron energy?" Rose asked. "Our Torchwood got asked to check out alien energy readings. It wasn't anything our scientists recognized, but maybe it's artron energy. You think the TARDIS picked up on something to bring you here?"

The Doctor nodded. "It's possible. She knows far more than I ever will. Rose, where'd the gap come out on your side?"

Rose smirked. "You're not gonna believe it. It's supposed to be one of the most famous haunted houses in America. It's called the Winchester Mystery House."

The Doctor glanced over at Martha before answering, "Oh, I do believe it. We're in the Winchester House of our universe, about a hundred years before your time. Tell me, is there anything else unusual going on besides the energy readings?"

"Our mobiles don't work on the upper floors," Rose said. "And there have been some small earthquakes too."

The Doctor began to pace. "Artron energy, radio interference, seismic activity….it's all connected. But how?"

A horrified gasp made them turn. "Dear God, the spirits are made manifest!" Sarah Winchester stood in the doorway, eyes wide with fear as she took in the scene before her.

Martha went to her and took her arm, surreptitiously checking her pulse again. _Racing again, and she'd just calmed down._ "It's all right, Mrs. Winchester. She's not a spirit. She's a friend." She steered the old woman to a cherry rocker in the corner of the room. "You shouldn't be up yet."

"I am not an invalid," Sarah grumbled, but she allowed herself to be led to the chair. "I have a right to know what's going on in my own home."

"Of course you do," Martha said in a soothing tone.

"Mrs. Winchester! Allow me to introduce you to your mysterious voice!" the Doctor exclaimed. "This is Rose Tyler. Rose, Mrs. Sarah Winchester." Rose gaped a little, then recovered quickly.

"But, hers is not the voice I heard," Sarah said. "It was a man's voice."

Rose said, "That must have been—"

She was interrupted by a male voice, also with a South London accent. "Rose, I found a pattern….Blimey!"

"That was the voice!" Sarah said as a young black man came into view on the other side of the mirror, carrying an open laptop. He stared disbelievingly through the gap.

"It's you!" he exclaimed.

"—Mickey," Rose finished with a shrug.

The Doctor was grinning madly. "Mickey!"

"Don't you dare call me an idiot!" the man named Mickey growled. Then he returned the grin. "So much for us not being able to see each other ever again, eh?"

The Doctor's expression turned serious. "We shouldn't be able to. We have to find out why this is happening and stop it. We can't see each other." A fleeting look of hurt crossed Rose's face at that, and the Doctor said gently, "It's not what I want, Rose. But both our universes could be destroyed." As if he couldn't stand to be somber for another moment, his tone quickly changed again, to one of excitement at a new mystery to solve. "Now, Mickey! Rose mentioned alien energy and you just said you found a pattern."

"Yeah, I did," Mickey said, turning the laptop around so the monitor faced the gap. "Take a look at this." The Doctor pulled out his glasses and stepped near the mirror again as Mickey went on, "The energy levels fluctuate. They start low. Then they go up at a steady pace, until they peak and fall suddenly. And get this. Every time they peak, we have an earthquake."

A pair of charts was on the monitor. Mickey pressed a key, and they merged. "Artificially generated seismic disturbances," the Doctor murmured as he studied the results.

Mickey nodded. "Seems like it. And then it starts all over again. See?"

The Doctor frowned and leaned closer to the mirror. "Yes…..Mrs. Winchester, the first voice was heard four days ago?"

"Yes."

"And then again two days ago. Mickey, these peaks seem to correspond to the days when voices were heard here on this floor. And the energy levels are getting higher. The breakthroughs are visual now, not just audible. Hmm."

While the Doctor considered the screen, Mickey caught Martha's eye. "I'm Mickey Smith. I used to travel with the Doctor too."

"Before or after Rose?" Martha asked.

Rose answered. "All three of us, for a while. He didn't mention it?"

Martha shook her head. "Not Mickey."

Mickey shook his head with a small smile. "Not surprised. I'm still the tin dog, and he's still rude."

"And still not ginger, either," the Doctor said mildly, looking back up from the screen. "Focus, you lot. You'd gossip through the end of the world!"

Sarah sat up rigidly in the rocker. "What are you saying, Doctor?"

He took his glasses off as he turned back to her. "I'm saying we have work to do, Mrs. Winchester, and we're wasting time." He looked over at the mirror again. "Rose, that _is_ artron energy. And I've seen it spike like this before. Do you remember Elarion?"

Rose answered, "When I went through that time slip and met an earlier you? Yeah, I remember that."

"There was artron energy there too, spiking in a regular pattern. With every spike, the time slip opened. We're seeing the same thing again here, but the question is how?" the Doctor mused.

"The bigger question is how we seal the gap," Rose pointed out. "We needed a TARDIS on each end of the slip last time. We don't have that now."

"But if we can find out what's causing the gap this time, then perhaps we can reverse it," Martha suggested.

"I hope so," Rose said. "I remember that on Elarion, the cycles kept getting shorter and shorter. If we hadn't stopped it, the time slip would have stayed open forever."

"What would have happened then?" Mickey asked.

"Nothing good," the Doctor answered grimly.

"You're frightening me, Doctor," Sarah said, rising from her seat. "I don't understand much of what you're saying, but what I do understand makes me tremble, not only for myself but for my whole world. Can you stop this…time slip?"

She really was shaking as the Doctor looked down at her. "I'm going to try. I need to look at your building plans, Mrs. Winchester. Can you get them for me, and bring them up here? Good!" he said when she nodded. "Now, I need to get back to your lumber yard. I left something there that will help me." He faced the mirror one more time. "I'm going to bring the TARDIS up here. I need access to her data banks."

"Just don't miss and land fifty years from now," Mickey said with a smirk. He turned the laptop screen back toward himself and walked back to the rocker on his side of the mirror, sitting to monitor the readouts.

"O ye of little faith," the Doctor said. He pulled out the sonic screwdriver and twisted it. "Martha, this setting is a beacon. I'll home in on it and land right out in the hallway. Not to worry, Mrs. Winchester!" he said, glancing over at the old woman. "I won't harm a single plank of your hardwood floors! Shall we?" he asked, gesturing widely toward the door.

"Doctor!" Rose called to him. "If the breakthroughs have gone from audio to visual…how much stronger will they get? Enough for something—or some_one_ to go through?"

The Doctor stood very still, an unreadable expression on his face. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that, Rose," he said quietly. "I didn't want to disappoint you. If the energy peaks that much, it'll be a disaster. We can't let it get to that point. I'm sorry."

Rose nodded resignedly. "I thought so. Well, you'd better hurry if you're going to save the world."

Martha felt like an intruder again as she watched them exchange a long look. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something more, then shut it and swept out the door with Sarah.

"How has he been, really?" Rose asked softly.

Martha pursed her lips, thinking before answering. "He keeps himself very closed up most of the time. It's like he doesn't want to let anyone in. He's happy to show you the universe from beginning to end, literally." Rose nodded knowingly, and Martha went on, "But getting him to really talk is like pulling teeth." When Mickey snorted at that, she said, "Oh, he'll babble on forever about anything that pops into his head. But to get him to actually say something, to get him to drop the walls around his hearts even for a minute…I had to refuse to go back to the TARDIS to get him to do that." She sighed. "He misses you, Rose. There were times when he'd look at me but I'd swear he was seeing you instead. And there were times when I wondered why he asked me to travel with him at all."

"Because you're the best, Martha Jones," Rose said. "He only takes the best, although sometimes he forgets that. You just remember it yourself and don't let him be a git."

"Keep him in line?" Martha asked with a grin.

Rose smiled. "Someone has to!"

The two women began to laugh. Mickey grunted. "A bloke's in trouble when the missus and the ex get along," he said. Then he gasped. "Rose, those energy levels are shooting up! I think— "

Martha never got to hear what Mickey thought. A loud rumble drowned out his voice. The swirls of light around the mirror grew unbearably bright, and she put her hand up to protect her eyes.

The next moment, all was silent. Martha put her hand down and blinked as she stared into the mirror.

Her own reflection stared back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I know, it's been a long, long time since an update. I'm not going to make promises…real life has been getting too much in the way! But I will say…notice the question mark for the chapter count? It's running away from me.

Thanks to Aibhinn for being a terrific beta and Brit-picker.

Of course, not mine. Lyrics and music to "In the Sweet By and By" by Samuel F. Bennett and J. P. Webster, Copyright 1903.

* * *

Martha rushed to the mirror, reaching out to the ornately carved frame. Her hand tingled at the contact, and she drew it back quickly. "Rose? _Rose?_ Mickey?"

No answer, of course. Just her own shocked reflection in the mirror now. From the hallway she could hear the familiar wheeze and grind of the TARDIS. A breeze blew through the open doorway, making the lace curtains on the window flutter.

_What am I going to tell him?_ she thought desperately, sick at the thought of his disappointment after having been so close.

"There now," the Doctor's voice said from the hallway, "what did I tell you? Right on target!" He strode in quickly, but his cheery expression vanished as he saw the now-normal mirror. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Martha answered bleakly. "Mickey said something about the energy levels shooting up. There was a loud rumble, and then the mirror was like this." She waved her hand at the glass.

The Doctor scanned the area with the sonic screwdriver. "The artron readings have gone down to trace levels, just like the other room. They must have had an earthquake on the other side."

"I'm sorry, Doctor," Martha said sympathetically.

He looked at her quizzically. "Sorry? Martha, don't apologize for things that aren't your fault. I was expecting this."

Her eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped. "You _what?_"

"Didn't I mention that?" he asked in a surprised tone.

She shook her head, filled with a mixture of exasperation and anger. "No, you didn't! You could've said something! Nearly gave me a heart attack, the way they disappeared!"

"It happened faster than I thought it would. I thought I'd be back quickly enough," he said, walking up to the mirror and running his hand over the frame. His hands stopped on one carved flower. A rose, she noticed. "I'm never quite in time for her," he murmured. "I never get to tell her…." His voice trailed off and he stared at the wooden rose. After a moment, he shook himself and looked at Martha in the mirror. "Mickey said there were peaks in the energy, leading to an earthquake and then a drop in the levels. The slip must close when the earthquakes hit. But it's only a temporary closure. We'll still have to find the cause." He let out a pained sigh. "And seal the breach properly."

_Seal the breach and break his hearts again._ She laid a hand on his shoulder, still watching his eyes in the mirror. "But we'll be able to see them again before that? So..so you can tell her—" _tell her you love her—_ "tell her what you wanted to?"

The Doctor looked pensive as he turned away from the mirror. "I think so," he said quietly. "The question is _when_." He walked over to the window and gazed outside, where the sun was setting. After a moment, he squared his shoulders, seeming to shake off his melancholy. When he spoke again, his voice was brisk and businesslike. "On Elarion the slip opened on a predictable schedule. But I didn't see that sort of pattern in Mickey's readings. Just the link between energy peaks and earthquakes. Perhaps….hmmm. Perhaps the buildup of seismic pressure is creating some kind of strain on their version of the Web of Time. It's making Vortex energy leak through in a way that shouldn't happen."

_He's covering up again,_ she realized. _Heaven forbid that his feelings get in the way._ "So now what?" she asked aloud.

The Doctor looked over at her and gave her a bright smile that didn't fool her for a minute. "So now we see what's for dinner!" He shrugged. "Might as well be practical, as long as we have to wait. Mrs. Winchester should have those blueprints for us, too. Come on!"

She hung back. "Doctor, what if they come back while we're gone?"

The Doctor stopped and gave her a nod of approval. "Good thinking, Martha. We need to set up an alarm for that. Hmmmm…. Let me see your mobile."

She handed him the phone and followed him out of the room. The TARDIS was standing in the hallway juncture. She followed him in and up to the console, where he laid her mobile down into a socket and started punching some buttons. "Let me just set up a new interface here….and…there!" He pulled the phone out of the socket and tossed it back to her. "The TARDIS will call when the artron levels build past tolerance levels again. Come on. I thought medical students were always hungry!"

Still she hung back. "Shouldn't I change first?"

"What? Dinner will be cold by the time you finish fussing and primping. You're fine. Let's go!"

With a chuckle, she followed him out once more, then down the strange, short stairs back to the fourth floor. The lift was just arriving with McSweeney on board, carrying an armful of rolled-up plans and a clipboard thick with papers. "Miz Winchester said you wanted these?" he asked, glancing at Martha and shaking his head at the coat she was now wearing. _Not quite decent enough, I suppose. I probably should have changed._

"Yes, I did! I need the one for the sixth floor…is this it?" The Doctor took one of the rolls and stepped into the lift. He started to unroll the plan. "Can you take us to the dining room, Mr. McSweeney? We're expected. Martha, come on!" He finished unrolling the paper with a flourish.

She stepped into the lift and shrugged a little at McSweeney, who looked bewildered as he pushed the button to send them back down. The Doctor had taken his glasses out again and was peering at the plans. "How recent is this plan, Mr. McSweeney?" he asked, turning the paper so Martha and McSweeney could both read the handwritten date: August 1, 1905.

"That one's from a week ago," McSweeney answered. "Don't you know the date?"

"Oh, well, we've been traveling," the Doctor said airily. "Crossed the dateline and a few time zones on the way here. Is this the most current one?"

"The most current complete plan. Miz Winchester makes changes every day, and those are kept on this clipboard."

The Doctor took the clipboard, handing the large paper over to Martha.. "Newest on top, it seems….My, she's been busy. Look at all of this." He flipped through the papers; page after page, even a few small scraps of drawings of floorplans, with notations of new additions and deletions written in a spidery hand.

"Why so many changes?" Martha asked, looking at the plans on the clipboard and comparing them to the one she held in her hand.

McSweeney looked uncomfortable. "Well, she's a good employer, but…"

"But not such a good architect," the Doctor said. "It's all right, Mr. McSweeney, we won't say anything. Martha, some of the changes are corrections. There are more than a few doors that lead into walls and staircases that go nowhere in this house. Sometimes she designed it that way on purpose to fool the spirits, but sometimes it was just an accident. Look here." He flipped through the clipboard pages and stopped to point at one particular section. "As I recall, the most expensive window in the house is right there. Am I right, Mr. McSweeney?"

The carpenter nodded. "A Tiffany stained-glass window. The money it cost was obscene. How did you know?"

"Oh, read about it in a magazine," the Doctor said.

Martha furrowed her brow. "But that's an interior wall. It would never get any light there. What's the point of putting something so expensive in a spot where it's wasted?"

"Exactly!" the Doctor said with a grin as the lift halted. "Don't look for logic here, Martha." They followed McSweeney out, and the Doctor went on thoughtfully, "Perhaps that's why I don't see a pattern to the breakthroughs. Looking for sense in a place where there isn't any."

"There isn't any pattern to earthquakes, either," Martha pointed out. "If there was, you'd know when the big one was going to hit."

"True," the Doctor replied with a nod. "Knowing the pattern helped me close the slip on Elarion, but this time I think we need to focus on place rather than patterns. There's something about this house that's focusing the time slip here. Hopefully these plans will give us a better idea of what that something is. Ah, here we are!" They'd reached the dining room. Three places were set at one end of a long table. He strode to the other end. "Plenty of room to work here," he said, motioning to Martha and McSweeney to put their papers down.

McSweeney watched curiously as the Doctor unrolled blueprints and pulled some of the sheets off the clipboard, quickly becoming engrossed in comparing them. After a moment, the carpenter asked, "Is there anything more I can do?"

The Doctor didn't look up. "No, that's all," he said dismissively.

_Rude again!_ "Thank you, Mr. McSweeney," Martha said quickly with a smile.

McSweeney looked her up and down one more time, focusing on the bare ankle that just showed under the hem of the coat and shaking his head. "We'll get you some regular clothes. One of the maids is about your size," he said. "My men'll be coming back into the house in a little bit and I don't want them distracted by you." He started out the door, then looked back. "You made an effort. I'll give you that."

Martha chuckled as he left the room, then turned back to the Doctor. He'd pulled a pair of the newest sheets from the top of the clipboard pile and was holding them up. More were spread out on the table. "She's made more than a half dozen changes all over the house in just a few days. No wonder Mr. McSweeney is such a grouch. He must be having a hell of a time keeping up!"

"I have heard some rumblings from time to time." Sarah hobbled in through the doorway and walked slowly toward the table. "I know Mr. McSweeney thinks me quite mad. Most of the staff think so. I cannot stop them from thinking. As long as they do their work, what they think does not matter. " She reached the chair at the head of the table, sinking into it with a tired sigh.

Martha looked at her appraisingly. _She's been doing too much._ "Are you all right, Mrs. Winchester?"

The old woman waved her hand dismissively. "Just old age, Miss Jones. Medical science cannot do anything about that. Doctor, since you are here, I take it that your friends are no longer in the mirror?"

The Doctor set down one of the sheets. "Gone for the moment. We've set up a watch of sorts to tell us when they come back. Are these all the plans, Mrs. Winchester?"

Sarah nodded. "All there is for the moment. Have you found something?"

The Doctor set the last sheet down and rubbed the back of his neck. "Not so far, no. There's something I'm not seeing here."

"Perhaps something to eat will help clear the cobwebs from your mind," Sarah said as her manservant Smithson wheeled in a cart laden with covered dishes. "Please, join me. Miss Jones? I thought medical students were always hungry."

"You see? I told you, Martha!" the Doctor said with a grin.

As they sat down, Sarah said, "I must apologize in advance for the frugality of this meal. We were not expecting guests tonight."

After the soup, the salad, and the baked salmon with green beans, just as Smithson was wheeling in a roasted chicken with new potatoes, Martha reminded herself that Sarah Winchester's definition of "frugal" wouldn't be found in the Oxford English dictionary. And after the peach pie ("The peaches are grown in my orchards," Sarah said proudly), Martha leaned back and groaned. "I don't think I'll be able to eat again for a week!"

The Doctor smiled. "A typical Edwardian menu is enough to sate even a medical student's appetite!"

"I hope it's enough to give you both the energy to solve this mystery, Doctor," Sarah said. "While we dined, you had some time to consider those plans. Do you have any thoughts about why worlds are colliding here in my home?"

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I was thinking there might be something in the construction that would be causing the breach. Certain metals and alloys can do it, if you use them the right way. I remember one case in New York where a high-rise was built with this metal framing in such a way that it became a huge, super-conductive antenna designed and built expressly for the purpose of pulling in and concentrating spiritual turbulence. It was used to create a doorway for Gozer the Gozerian—"

Martha interrupted. "Doctor? That was _Ghostbusters._"

He looked at her strangely. "Was it? No!"

"Yes!" Martha said with a laugh. "You were quoting from the movie!"

"More strange words," Sarah observed. "You are referring to the cinema?"

"Yes," the Doctor answered. "Movie is slang for moving picture."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Ghostbusters?"

He shrugged. "More slang…referring to some of our…colleagues from the Society." He looked at Martha challengingly. "So, Miss Jones. Why don't you have a go?"

Martha rose from her chair and walked down to where the plans were still scattered on the table. "I will. I didn't do too badly with those Empire State plans in New York, did I? I found the dalekanium." She picked up the latest revision, laid it down next to the complete plan and began to study them.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" McSweeney had returned and was standing in the doorway, the grime of the day's labor washed away. "The men have eaten and are waiting for their pay."

"Very good, Mr. McSweeney. Let us go to the safe," Sarah said, getting to her feet. "Please excuse me, Doctor, Miss Jones. I need to see to this."

The Doctor rose as well. "Did we arrive on payday, then?"

"Every day is payday," McSweeney answered. "Easier to get rid of the slackers that way."

"Doctor, please let my staff know if there is anything more you need for your investigation," Sarah said. She gave Martha a slight nod and left the room, McSweeney behind her.

Martha looked back down at the plans. After a few minutes of shuffling papers around and comparing, she said, "I don't see any changes on the sixth floor since the plan drawn on the first of August. Everything looks exactly the same."

The Doctor moved next to her. "No, no changes at all. Except the addition of doorways into another universe. But that's not on the plans, and there's nothing to indicate how they got there." He rubbed his face. "I could really use a cup of tea right now."

Martha stared at him. "Tea? You just finished stuffing yourself with a five-course meal, and now you want tea?"

"A good cuppa helps clear the mind!" the Doctor insisted. "All those tannins and antioxidants and plenty of L-theanine. More of that increases alpha brain waves…and what does that mean, soon-to-be-Doctor Jones?"

"You're giving me a pop quiz?" She thought for only a moment. "It would make you calmer and more alert. Well, it would for a human, anyway."

"Go to the head of the class! It works for Time Lords too. And tea just tastes good, doesn't it?" he asked with a wide grin. "Come on, let's see if we can find the kitchen!" He picked up the map. "This will help keep us from getting lost. Of course, getting lost might be more fun!"

Martha shook her head with a smile. "You say that now, but I know you! If you don't get your tea you'll be whining and complaining."

"I do not whine!" the Doctor argued as they headed out the door and walked down a richly wallpapered hallway lit by gas lamps. "I admit complaining. And I might criticize or deplore or indict or object. I might protest vociferously on occasion—"

"Oh, a lot of occasions!" Martha said with a laugh.

"Granted!" the Doctor agreed. "But I do _not_ whine!"

"That's your story," Martha said as they came to a junction. "Which way now?"

Surprisingly, the Doctor didn't look at the map. Instead, he took in a deep breath and then pointed. "That way!" He led her down one corridor. As they walked down it, she could hear a woman's voice singing, and after a moment, she could smell the lingering aroma of cooking. "See? The nose always knows, Martha!"

The kitchen was panelled in white wood with mustard-colored trim. A kettle sat in the hob of the large wood-burning cooker in one corner. With dinner over and the washing up done, there was only one person in the kitchen now: the maid who had shown them in earlier. Her back was to the door, and she was singing as she put dishes away in their cupboards.

_"In the sweet by and by,  
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;  
In the sweet by and by,  
We shall meet on that beautiful shore."_

Martha felt the Doctor stiffen slightly. Glancing over, she saw that his jaw was clenched and his eyes were bleak. _Not covering up now. Why would an old spiritual make him look like he's been ripped to pieces?_

She didn't get a chance to ask. The maid turned and saw them, letting out a frightened gasp and dropping the teacup and saucer she'd taken down. "Oh! I didn't hear you come in! You scared me half to death!" She bent down to pick up the pieces of broken china.

"Sorry about that," Martha said, kneeling to help her.

"It's all right," the maid said as they gathered the last big pieces. She stood and dropped them into a bin. "I'll sweep up the rest in a moment. Are you lost?"

The maid's fright had jolted the Doctor out of his stricken reverie. "Lost? Oh, no no no! Not at all…ah….we didn't get your name before?"

"I'm Tessie," the woman said.

He smiled broadly, all traces of despair gone. "Tessie! I'm the Doctor, this is Martha."

Tessie nodded. "I remember. We don't get visitors here so I'm not likely to forget."

"Ah. Well, we're not lost. We're investigating. And I was hoping for a bit of tea."

The young woman smiled. "I'm just making tea for the mistress now. I'm sure we can spare some for you, sir. And it's all right if you are lost. Everyone gets lost here at least once a month. We do get new maps all the time to help us get around, but it still happens."

"I can see why you'd need a map," Martha said. "We saw how many changes Mrs. Winchester made in just the past few days."

Tessie nodded. "She'll be making more changes tonight. I have to bring the tea up to the séance room. That's where she does her drawings." Tessie's voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. "She says she gets her directions from the spirits!"

In an equally low voice, the Doctor said, "Do you think there really are spirits?"

"I…I…" Tessie hesitated and looked around again, as if to make sure no one was listening. She focused on a spot behind them. Martha turned to look and saw a high window. "That window opens to the séance room. Sometimes she listens from there, to make sure we're all working," Tessie said in a whisper. "She fires people for gossiping!"

"You're not gossiping," the Doctor said soothingly. "You're helping us with our investigation. Have you seen or heard anything unusual?"

The maid shook her head. "Not me. But my friend Lizzie heard them in a bedroom upstairs. She refused to go back up there and she lost her place for it."

Surprised, Martha asked, "Sacked just for being scared?"

Tessie glanced back up toward the window, then said very quietly, "Or for gossiping or shirking or sometimes just for saying the mistress' name in the house if she thinks the spirits are listening to you. It's not easy to work here, but she does pay twice the going rate, so you go along to get along, if you know what I mean."

The Doctor smirked. "Oh, I do. And I think that teakettle needs watching."

"Oh! The tea!" Tessie whirled to the cooker and pulled the kettle off. "I almost let it boil!" She quickly brought it to the counter where a china teapot covered in blue daisies was waiting. She poured the water into the teapot, and then shook the kettle a little before setting it back down on the stove. "There is some hot water left, sir. Give me a moment to finish this." She turned back to the teapot, giving the contents a stir before putting the lid on and covering it with a tea cosy. "I'll bring this up in just a moment. Let me get your tea started, sir."

Martha's phone started beeping. "No time for tea now," the Doctor said, his eyes brightening. No false cheeriness this time. Instead, his expression was one of anticipation. "Our alarm just went off."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I really intended to update much more quickly, and I apologize for the long wait between installments. This story references "Slip Up," a ficathon piece from way back last summer.

And of course, don't own.

* * *

The Doctor bounded up the last steps of the strange stairway, his long legs easily covering a half dozen of the ridiculously shallow risers in one stride. "Rose? Rose, where are you?" He jogged to the junction where he'd left the TARDIS, then started down the switchback hallway. "Rose?"

The voice that answered wasn't Rose's. "Here, Doctor!" Mickey called back.

His voice came from the same room where the maid Lizzie had been so frightened. The Doctor ran to that doorway, just aware of Martha's panting as she ran to catch up to him. He passed through the door, and saw the now-familiar energy sizzling around the open closet door. It no longer led to a blank wall. Instead, Mickey stood in the frame, looking a little apologetic.

"Rose isn't here," he said, nodding a greeting at Martha as she came through the door. "She had to check in with the home office, and she had to go outside since we don't have any mobile reception up here. So you're stuck with just me for now. Sorry."

"Sorry for what? I'm happy to see you, too, Mickey boy!" the Doctor said in a voice that was cheerier than he felt. Mickey looked unconvinced. The Doctor thought for a moment, then asked, "How've you been? How's your gran? And Jake?"

"Jake is fine, Gran is fine and I'm fine," Mickey answered. "Jake and I are working for Torchwood, and Gran is still slapping me when she thinks I need it." He flashed them a quick smile while the Doctor smirked and Martha chuckled. Then his expression turned serious. "Thanks for making the effort at being polite. Now, go ahead and ask me the question you really want answered."

The Doctor gaped at him. "Look at that," Mickey said with another smile. "The Doctor, struck dumb by a stupid ape." He laughed, then went on, "It's all right. I know I'm really not the tin dog, Doctor, but I also know it's still just you and her, even if you're a universe apart."

"He's right, you know," Martha said softly.

The Doctor looked at her, reminded of what she'd said when she'd left him after the year that never was. _She deserves better,_ he thought sadly. _They both do._ "I suppose I never have been any good at telling either of you this," he said slowly, "but you're both important to me too."

Mickey was still smiling. "Oh, I know that. And I bet Martha does too." He paused while she nodded. "But I know we're not the same kind of important–"

"I know it too," Martha interjected.

"–And that's all right," Mickey continued.

Another nod from Martha. _She's being more forgiving than I deserve._ "Go on," she urged gently. "Ask."

The Doctor looked back and forth between them, then swallowed before finally asking, "How has Rose been? Really?"

"Really?" Mickey looked upwards, thinking before answering. "She always says you told her to have a fantastic life," he said at last. "She's brilliant at Torchwood, just brilliant. All the things she saw with you, all the things she did when she was traveling...she knows more than blokes who've been there for years. She should be running the place."

The Doctor smiled proudly. But, ever sensitive to how things were said, Martha asked, "_Should_ be?"

Mickey nodded. "Yeah, but it won't happen."

"Why not?" the Doctor asked sharply.

In a disgusted tone, Mickey replied, "Politics. Both office politics and the regular kind. Those blokes who've been with Torchwood for years think Rose is some kind of threat to them. So they do what they can to hold her back. Give her the crap assignments, hoping she'll fail. When she doesn't, they send her on jaunts like this one halfway around the world and all the way out of sight so no one sees how good she is."

The Doctor furrowed his brow in confusion. "But…I thought Pete was with Torchwood? He lets this happen to her?"

Mickey snorted. "Thought you knew Rose better than that. She won't ride on his coattails. Not that he'd offer them to her."

"What does that mean?" the Doctor demanded. "Did something happen?"

Mickey blew out a sigh. "Yeah, well, that's where the regular politics come in. Pete and Rose don't see eye to eye on things." He sighed again. "It's complicated."

"Tell me," the Doctor ordered. "I think I can follow."

Mickey nodded. "All right, then. This world may be parallel, but it's not like home. Remember the Powell Estate?"

"I'll never forget," the Doctor answered shortly, impatient for an explanation.

"Yeah, well. On your side, when you live on a council estate…you can get out. People try to help you get out. But over here…." He paused and gazed upwards again, obviously searching for words. "If you live on the estate over here, no one helps you get out. They keep you in. With guns." His tone grew bitter. "Over here we've got curfews and restrictions and prohibitions, unless you've got money to get around them. Or connections, like me and Torchwood. I got Gran out of there. But a lot of people are stuck. They're not allowed out."

"Sounds like those Jewish ghettos during the war," Martha observed. "People let that happen?"

"Yeah, well, history ran a bit different here," Mickey said. "No Hitler. No Holocaust."

"No chance for them to see the horrors and learn from it," the Doctor said.

"Exactly," Mickey said. "And, well, you know Rose. She sees something she thinks is wrong, she wants to change it straight away." The Doctor nodded, and Mickey ploughed on, "Pete doesn't see it the same. Like I said, history's different here. This world's had a police state as far back as anyone can remember, and as far as the ruling class is concerned, it works. Pete's been clawing his way into that ruling class for years. It's the real reason he became Gemini. It was a way in. Pete says Rose was threatening his position by being too outspoken. They fought about it a lot, neither of them giving an inch. She finally moved out. Now they barely talk to each other, and that's only for Jackie's sake."

"How's Jackie taking it?"

"Miserably. She's stuck in the middle." Mickey shrugged helplessly. "But with the baby...well, Rose didn't want Jackie choosing. So she just told her that everyone leaves home in the end, and that she'd be all right."

"Baby?" Martha asked in surprise.

"My little brother." Rose came into view in the doorframe. "So, Mickey's got you caught up on all the gossip, then?" Her eyes were flashing in anger. "I told you not to say anything!" she snapped at Mickey.

He didn't quail. "Be mad at me all you want, Rose. I wasn't gonna lie to him."

She glared at him for a moment. Then she huffed and said, "You need to call the office. Simmons wants to go over some numbers with you."

"Rose…" Mickey began, but she cut him off.

"Just go!"

Mickey shot a bleak look toward the Doctor and Martha, and moved out of their field of vision. Martha cleared her throat and said, "Um...I think…maybe I should go change before Mr. McSweeney brings me those maid's clothes. Had enough of that back in 1913." Before the Doctor could reply, she retreated through the door, leaving them alone.

Rose sighed. "Well. Mickey just proved he's not the tin dog. K-9 did what you told him to."

The Doctor smiled just slightly at that. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"What good would it have done?" Rose asked. "You can't do anything about it." She moved closer to the door, reaching out until her hand was stopped by the invisible barrier between their universes. Flattening her palm against it, she said softly, "I didn't want you worrying about me."

"No stopping that," the Doctor said, reaching out to lay his hand on his own side of the barrier. It was cool to the touch, but he could imagine that he could feel the warmth of her hand crossing the space between the worlds. "I've been worried about you ever since…ever since Bad Wolf Bay." His voice cracked a little. He didn't want to talk about that. Didn't want to remember her weeping.

_Coward!_ chided a voice in his head. _You don't want to remember what you didn't say. You're still afraid to say it._ Shoving that thought aside, he swallowed and asked, "So, a little brother now?"

Rose smiled a little. "Yeah. Matthew. He's almost two now."

"So, is he a little terror?"

Now she chuckled. "Not so bad. I heard once that you just have to try to understand them, so that's what I do." She paused as the Doctor laughed a little himself, and then said, "He's the one really fantastic thing here." She looked down, as if she couldn't meet his gaze now. "I'm trying, Doctor. Really. I'm trying to have that fantastic life you wanted for me. But between those wankers at Torchwood, and Pete–" _not Dad_, he noticed, "–and the way this world is …no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can't do more than just live a life, day after day after endless day." She looked up, tears glimmering in her eyes. "It may be the one adventure you can never have, Doctor, but it's not one you want. It's not one _I_ want. Not like this."

The hopelessness in her voice shattered him more than her tears had at Bad Wolf Bay. "Oh, Rose. You know that if I could…"

She wiped her eyes and nodded. "I know. But you can't and there's no use talking about it." She sniffled a little and then plastered on a smile. "So, Martha Jones? She seems nice."

The Doctor just looked at her for a long moment before answering, "She is."

"She cares about you."

"She's going to be a doctor. She cares about everyone."

Rose shook her head, her smile becoming more genuine. "It's not just bedside manner, you know."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Rose, Martha is smart and brave and a very good friend, but–"

"It's all right, Doctor," she interrupted. "Remember what I told you in Emergency Programme Rose? I want you to have a fantastic life too. I want you to care about other people."

"Rose, she's not–"

"I mean, I know I was awful about Sarah Jane, but I got over the jealousy thing a long time ago."

"Rose–"

"Just because I love you, I don't expect you to live like a monk or something."

"Rose, Martha is a wonderful woman, but I love _you!_" he snapped. They stared at each other for a moment, then he sighed noisily, sagging against the doorframe. "Well, _that_ wasn't how I'd planned to tell you that."

She giggled just a little hysterically. "Perhaps not. But hearts and flowers were never our style, Doctor. I was always expecting you to tell me when we were chained up in some dungeon or covered with slime."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You were expecting it?"

"Of course," she said. "You're not as inscrutable as you like to think you are."

"I felt so...terribly..._guilty_ for not telling you back then, when you were on the beach," he said soberly. "I spent months kicking myself for wasting time that day. But you knew?"

"Oh, Doctor. I always did," she said, leaning against the frame on her own side and looking at him with a tender expression. "You may not have said the words till now, but you told me every single day. I knew it because you would do anything for me."

"Anything but make two universes collapse," he said in a slightly bitter tone.

She shook her head. "That wouldn't be you. And I wouldn't ask you to do that, no matter what I said back there on that beach. So, no use talking about that either." She smiled suddenly, an impish sparkle in her eyes. "How _were_ you planning to tell me?"

He chuckled. "Oh, you know me. It would have to be impressive. I was thinking about some grand romantic setting like the Phidillippian Star Showers or the Ice Caverns of Verdoon or…"

"Or perhaps the Slime Pits of Karillon?" she asked teasingly.

"Karillon doesn't have slime pits. It has sand pits. You end up getting sand everywhere. And I do mean _everywhere_," the Doctor said with a smile. "You know, Karillon would probably have won out in the end, if not for Canary Wharf." He shook his head to shove away the memory of her falling toward the Void. "I certainly wasn't expecting to tell you in a place like this, where I couldn't even touch you."

"It's all right, Doctor. I wasn't expecting to tell you the way I did either. Best laid plans and all," Rose said. "I never needed you to be impressive."

"You might not, Rose." Mickey had returned. "But right now, we do. Got those numbers from Simmons, and we have a big problem."


End file.
